“Ask that of Kruchek and the other dogs. We had put it into the barn for the night. Now, the dogs were on the watch, and there was a hole in the door; so they got in, and had a good feast on … what I am accused of stealing.”
“So the sow went after you by herself, did it? Tell that story to an idiot, not to this court! You thieving blackguard! Who was it took the miller’s ram? who stole his Reverence’s geese? Say who?”
“Have you seen who? have you seen?” shrieked Koziol’s wife, rushing forwards to use her nails. But the other continued mercilessly:
“Who plundered the organist’s potato-pit? Who is it that snaps up everything missing in the village—be it gosling, or chicken, or rake or hoe?”
“You carrion, you! All you did when a lass—what your Yagna is doing now with the farm-lads—oh, no one reminds you of that now, vile trollop that you have been!”
This stung Dominikova to the very quick. “You dare to name my Yagna!” she roared furiously. “You dare! I’ll knock your teeth down your throat!”
“Silence, hussies! or I shall have to drive you out!” said Yacek, to quiet them, holding his trousers up with one hand.
The witnesses were then heard.
Dominikova, the plaintiff, spoke first. She had taken a subdued and pious tone of voice, every now and then calling Our Lady of Chenstohova to witness. She averred that the sow was hers, that Koziol had stolen it from the meadow where it fed. She did not ask the most honourable court to punish him for that—may our Lord give him a longer time in purgatory instead!—but (and here she raised her voice to its loudest tones) for having heaped such foul outrages, and so publicly, upon Yagna and herself.
Simon, Dominikova’s son, with clasped hands held under his cap, as one saying prayers in church, and with his eyes always fixed upon the judge, bore witness afterwards, in a dull plaintive voice, saying that the sow was his mother’s, that it was white all over, with a black patch about the tail, and one ear torn by Lapa, Boryna’s dog, which had attacked her last spring, and she had squealed so that he could hear her from the barn.
Then came the other witnesses, who all confirmed what he said, while Magda poured denials and curses through the grating, and Dominikova kept her eyes fixed on the holy image, or on Koziol, who listened attentively, with glances darted now at the witnesses, now at his wife.
The audience gave ear with intense interest, sometimes uttering a murmur, or an ironical comment, or a peal of laughter, severely suppressed by Yacek.
The case was gone into thoroughly, and only settled after the adjournment of the court to discuss the matter; during which time the people dispersed into the passages and outside the building, to get a breath of air, take refreshments, speak to the witnesses, or hold forth about their wrongs: others again, to complain of injustice with fierce invectives, as is usual on such occasions.
The adjournment over and sentence given, Boryna’s case came on. Eva stood up in court, dandling her baby. With floods of tears, she related how she had come to serve at his house and worked herself off her legs, and never got a kind word, nor a corner to sleep in, no, nor enough to eat, so that she had to beg food from the neighbours, and he had not paid her, but driven her away, and his own child too, on to the high roads.—Here she burst into bitter tears, and fell at the feet of the magistrates, screaming.
“Such, most honourable court, is the wrong done me: and this is his child!”
Boryna muttered indignantly: “She lies, like the wretch that she is.”
“Lie? Why, the whole village of Lipka knows. …”
“That you are a wanton and a drab!”
“O most honourable court! and he used to call me Yevka and names more tender still; and would bring me beads, and often and often rolls, when he came from town; and would say: ‘Here you are, Yevka, here you are, my dearest!’ And now. … O Jesus! O Jesus!”
At that, she bellowed aloud.
“You gipsy trull! Why not say I brought you a featherbed too, and cried: ‘Sleep under it, Yevka, sleep!’ ”
There was a roar of laughter.
“What, did you not? Was there anything you did not promise me?”
“Good God!” exclaimed Boryna, in fierce bewilderment. “It’s monstrous! And yet the lightning has not struck her!”
“Honourable court, it is known to the world that this thing has been: all Lipka can testify that I speak the truth. Let the witnesses speak and bear testimony!” she cried out, with a tempest of tears and ejaculations.
As a matter of fact, however, all they had to say amounted only to bits of gossip and malicious talk: so she set herself again to bring forward what proofs she had. As a last resource, she displayed her baby and exposed it to the eyes of the judges, while it kicked up its naked legs and roared lustily.
“The honourable court,” she cried out, “will see with their own eyes whose it is: whose is this potato nose, whose are these grey-brown blear eyes? Boryna and he are as like as two drops of water.”
But this was too much for the court’s gravity; and the audience was also convulsed with uproarious merriment, when they compared the child with Boryna. Witticisms came forth in plenty.
“There’s a handsome lass for you. For all the world like a skinned dog!”
“Let the widower Boryna marry her: the boy will do for a swineherd.”
“Why, she is getting as bald as a cow in spring.”
“A comely girl she is! Put her as a scarecrow in a millet-field; all the birds will take fright.”
“Her face is smeared all over with grease and grime.”
“Because she’s a thrifty soul: washes once a year to save soap!”
“No wonder; she is so busy, having to light the Jews’ stoves.”9
They were growing more and more caustic and
